endgame
by waterlit
Summary: Persistence doesn't make defeat any less inevitable. AliceHatter.


**Title: **endgame

**Pairing:** AliceHatter

**Summary:** Persistence doesn't make defeat any less inevitable.

**Disclaimer:** I certainly don't own the characters/the book/the movie.

**AN:** Thank you for reading.

* * *

I. The Beginning

It all began when Alice tumbled down a dark, concealed hole, right into a different world and _adventure_. She came through the woods, chasing mischief and trouble, and ended up sitting at a table all decked out for tea.

"Welcome to our tea party," the Hatter said, observing the curious child. He thought Alice so very different, so very odd, so very young.

"Go away," the Dormouse said, rather rudely.

"That's not very polite of you," Alice said.

"But you invited yourself to our tea party," the Hatter said. "That's not exactly courteous of you either."

Alice's eyes grew big and round. "I…"

"You can stay," the Hatter said, waving his gloved hand. "Pour the tea, Dormouse."

Pour the tea was exactly what the Dormouse did not do; rather, he jumped into a half-filled teacup and splashed more tea over the tablecloth.

"You spilt the tea, Dormouse," the Hatter said.

"So you did," Alice said. "I used to do it when I was younger. Oh, not jump into the teacups, of course. I wouldn't have been able to fit in one. I poked my fingers in."

The Hatter nodded. "Why did you stop? It's rather fun, according to the Dormouse."

The Dormouse snored from his teacup.

"It is, isn't it?" Alice said. "My mother stopped me. She said it was time I grew up and got some table manners."

The Hatter sat still and stared at Alice. "Time…"

"Yes, time, Hatter," Alice said. "Why are you looking at me like this?"

The Hatter gave the Dormouse's teacup a vicious push; the Dormouse and his teacup flew off the table and onto the ground. "Time has abandoned us," he said sadly.

"What do you mean?" Alice asked.

"Enough questions!" the Dormouse said, now awake again.

"It's your fault," the Hatter said.

"We both offended time," the Dormouse said. "Don't you push all the blame onto me."

"Oh, don't fight, please," Alice said.

The Hatter grinned at Alice. "We won't, indeed we won't. You are a wise child, I daresay. I don't know much about children."

"Nor me," the Dormouse said. "You are a singular person."

"I'm one person, of course I'm singular," Alice said.

The Hatter blinked. "Pray explain what you mean."

"What do you mean?" Alice retorted.

"Children and raven desks," the Dormouse said.

"I don't understand," Alice said.

"And you should hope you never will," the Hatter said.

"I don't understand either," the Dormouse complained.

When Alice finally left the tea party, the Hatter watched as her form disappeared in the distance, a frown on his pale face.

"We'll see her again," the Dormouse said.

"She's indeed a singular person," the Hatter said, and they nodded at each other knowingly.

:::

III. The End

"Won't you stay?" the Hatter asked of Alice the first time around.

It was the first time he asked that question of her. The day was almost done, and pale, tired sunlight washed over them in the aftermath of the battle. Alice's golden hair shone like newly spun silk; she seemed wreathed with a halo of light, and the Hatter thought he had never seen her look quite so angelic.

"Maybe someday I'll come traipsing back," Alice said.

"You could stay," he said.

"What an idea. What a mad, crazy, wonderful idea," Alice said. She smiled, if that forced stretching of facial muscles could be called a smile. "But I can't, Hatter."

The Hatter leaned over and pressed his cheek against hers; all the unsaid things between them stung his eyes and pricked his tongue. "Fare you well," he said, and took a step back.

Their eyes met again, just before Alice faded, and they said with their sad, sad eyes what their words could not convey. Behind them, Mirana stood and watched and smiled and sighed.

:::

The Hatter arrived in England soon after for a quick visit.

"Dear Hatter!" Alice said, clasping his work-worn hands in her own white ones. "Dear, dear Hatter. I'm certainly happy to see you again. I thought we might never – but there, you're here, and that's all that matters."

"I'm here for a visit," the Hatter said, smiling and pulling Alice towards himself. "The Queen let me come. It was very kind of her."

"How is Underland?" Alice asked, surfacing from the Hatter's embrace and leading him to her waiting carriage.

"Good," the Hatter said. "We all wish you were still there."

"I wish I were, too."

"Come back –"

"I can't, Hatter. Not yet." Alice turned her face from him, for hot tears were now gathering in the crevices of her eyes.

:::

"Would you have me stay?" the Hatter asked of Alice the second time around. "Would you have me stay in this fog-ridden, accursed city? Would you stay yourself?"

Alice found her voice caught in her throat. "I grew up here. Well, not here exactly. You'd love the gardens in the town I grew up in; it's quite different from London. You saw those gardens when you came to this world a month ago. The London air does not suit me either, dear Hatter."

"I was not talking about the air alone," the Hatter said. He sounded aggrieved. "There are no ravens here."

"Not in the city," Alice said. "I don't believe ravens could live here anymore than you could."

"I want to go back" – there was a hint of a whine in his tone.

"You're visiting," Alice said, as if that alone was the placebo to all their myriad concerns.

"Underland is a much better place," the Hatter said. "Alice, let's fly back, my darling."

Alice turned away to hide the frustration and desperation written in the frowns on her face and the pain in her eyes. "I can't, Hatter. I have matters to see to here, as I've told you."

"Come with me," he wheedled, "we can visit the Mock Turtle. I'll bring you to the seaside."

"I can't," Alice said, and this time, it was said in a whisper.

The Hatter's hands were cold as they stroked her cheeks. "Don't cry, Alice."

"I wish I could stop time right now..."

"You don't actually wish that," the Hatter said. His face was unnaturally stern now, and his red curls quivered against his scalp despite the absence of a breeze.

"What's the matter?"

"You don't know what you're saying, Alice," the Hatter said. "You don't actually want to cut off all ties with time."

"Hatter..."

The Hatter took a step back. "Fare you well," he said, and started to fade.

"Hatter!" Alice cried, but he was gone, and in her outstretched fingers was only air, only emptiness, only chill of the winter wind.

:::

"Won't you return with me?" the Hatter asked of Alice the third time around.

He had come quietly this time, again, appearing in her room at the stroke of midnight, and she sat up in shock when those bottle-green eyes flashed in the dim candlelight.

"Hatter!" Alice cried, and threw back the bedclothes to run into his arms.

"I've missed you."

"So have I, Hatter dear."

"Go back with me," he pleaded.

"My mother needs me, Hatter. She's poorly at the moment."

"Bring her with you."

"I can't. She –"

"Yes?"

"My mother – she –" Alice said, unable to continue. She turned her head away from the Hatter.

"What's wrong, Alice?"

"She wants me to marry."

"Marry!" the Hatter said. "Pray, who does she want you to marry?"

"A boy I grew up with," Alice said. "She desires to see me happily married before she dies. She knows she doesn't have long to live."

"So, are you going to marry him?"

"You have to understand," Alice said, her face grey even in the candlelight. "I have no choice!"

"We could run away."

"And my mother?"

The Hatter shook his head. "She has your sister, and your sister's children."

"It's not the same," Alice said.

"Alice, don't cry," the Hatter said. He held her tight. "Why do humans die?"

Alice looked up. "I don't quite understand, Hatter."

"Why does time forsake your kind? I've been thinking about it. Thinking hard. I don't have an answer yet."

"I thought you were the one time abandoned," Alice said. "The Dormouse said so."

The Hatter sighed. "But no one dies in Underland. Not even the Red Queen."

"She's still alive?"

"She cannot die," the Hatter said sadly. "And I cannot follow you when you go beyond the world."

"Stay with me tonight," Alice said, a hand against his lips. "Let's forget everything else tonight."

"I thought you were to be married."

"I am," Alice said, "but not yet. Stay with me tonight."

:::

"You promised me once," the Hatter said.

"I'm not the girl I once was," Alice said. "Time has passed. Ten years, ten whole years. I – I can't go back to Underland anymore. I don't belong there."

"You'll have me," the Hatter said. "and everyone else. They miss you terribly."

"And what of my child?"

The Hatter looked perplexed. "What of it?"

"He will have no mother if I leave!"

"Your husband might remarry," the Hatter said. "A stepmother could look after your child."

"It would be unspeakably selfish of me to leave him at this tender age."

The Hatter spared Alice a sorrowful glance. "You've lost your muchness," he said.

"It has been ten long years, Hatter."

"You're not the same person you were, Alice. Where is the Alice who slew the Jabberwocky? Where is the Alice who defied the Red Queen?"

"She is in here," Alice said, fingers pressed against her chest. "But her day has come and gone. She has grown up."

"Grown up," he repeated sadly. "I feared it would be so. Mirana warned me."

Alice blinked away her tears. "I will always remember you, Hatter."

"And I, you," he said, brushing his cold fingers across her numb cheeks. "Don't cry, Alice."

"Oh, Hatter..." she said. "If only I'd stayed that day, when you asked me not to return to this human, prosaic world."

"You have been happier here," he said. "And now, I have to leave."

"Will I ever see you again?" Alice asked, clinging onto his sleeves.

"Perhaps," he said, gently loosening her grip. "Or perhaps not."

"I wish things turned out differently," Alice said.

The Hatter shook his head, his bright eyes shining with a frightening intensity. "Farewell," he said, and disappeared after a last glance at her.


End file.
